


This Christmas

by ArtemisRayne



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Romantic Comedy, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Cute Kids, Holidays, Hopeless Romantic!Jack, M/M, Meet-Cute, Romantic Comedy, Single Dad!Davey, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:47:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28185633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisRayne/pseuds/ArtemisRayne
Summary: Jack Kelly has always loved helping out at the Christmas fair his mother hosts at her community theatre. He adores all of the cheer and excitement and laughter, and nothing makes him happier than seeing all of the kids get excited about the holiday he loves so much himself. This year, though, there's one kid in particular that's determined to make his Christmas an adventure.
Relationships: David Jacobs/Jack Kelly, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 53





	This Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> This is just simple, short, unabashed Christmas fluff. I didn't even really try with this one. This is purely a product of binge-watching way too many Christmas rom-coms, and a precocious little character I'd come up with for a different story inserted herself and took over. 
> 
> I wasn't originally going to post this, but I figured that this year we can all use a little extra holiday magic, no matter how silly.

"Christ, you're worse than the kids. How much'a that candy you had?"

Scoffing, Jack Kelly shoots an unimpressed look over his shoulder at his brother, Spot. "Oh, stop acting so grumpy," he retorts. "No one buys it. If you really hated doing this so much, you wouldn't come."

"And let Ma guilt-trip me for the rest of my life?" Spot counters, eyebrow raised. "No thanks."

Jack shrugs because he doesn't really have a good reply to that – their mom is notoriously good at guilt-trips. Jack's been on the receiving end of his fair share, and he admittedly goes out of his way to avoid another one. They're painful, on a _soul-deep_ level. 

That said, Jack doesn't need his arm twisted to volunteer at the annual Christmas fair that their mom hosts at her community theatre. He loves the night of carols and arts and crafts for the neighborhood kids and has since he was young enough that he was attending instead of helping run it.

"Okay, but look how cute they are," says Jack, nodding toward the mass of children milling through the foyer. "All tiny and dressed up and excited. Remember how much fun this was as a kid? Can't wait 'til I got kids I can bring. Just gotta, ya know, find someone. Awh, look at those little twins in the matching Christmas jammies."

Spot snorts in amusement. "Rein in the ovaries there, cowgirl," he says dryly. Jack jabs at him with a paintbrush in retaliation. "And if you'd keep away from my husband 'til you get those hormones under control, I'd appreciate it," Spot continues blithely. "He's already hounding me."

"For another baby?" Jack asks, surprised. "That would be awesome."

"And I'm telling you the same thing I told him," says Spot. "We can barely handle the one we got."

"Spoilsport," Jack replies, smirking. He turns off the tap and grabs a rag to dry off his paintbrushes. He's not due back at the face-painting booth for another few minutes, so he tucks the fistful of cleaned brushes into his back pocket and leans against the wall beside his brother. "Speaking of, where is my favorite li'l niece?"

"Tony's got her," Spot says, jerking his chin vaguely toward the auditorium doors. Jack knows Spot's husband, Tony, is leading some of the kids in a dance activity on the stage there. "Tryna wear her out. Kid's got more energy than she knows what to do with."

Jack laughs. "Well, the offer still stands. If you two want a night off, she's always welcome at Uncle Jack's."

"You know how long it took to get the mess off her the last time she stayed with you?" Spot asks with a pointed glare. "I'm still findin' glitter in the laundry."

"Okay, that was an accident," says Jack, holding up his hands in surrender. "I didn't even know I had that stuff, and I still dunno where she found it." Before his brother can respond, Jack interrupts with a soft squeak of excitement. "Awh, look at that tiny reindeer kid!"

Shaking his head, Spot derisively mutters, "You're such a girl."

"That's mean." Both men look down in surprise at the fierce little voice. There's a young girl in a red dress standing by the water fountain on the other side of the hallway. She pushes her cascade of black curls back off her face, revealing a pouty frown that scrunches up her nose, and plants her hands on her hips.

"Uh, what?" Spot asks, confused.

"You said 'girl' like it's a _mean_ name," the girl answers in that tone of patronizing only a little kid can pull off. She can't be more than six, the sort of tall and lanky that comes from recent growth spurts, and her features are distinctly Mediterranean. Folding her arms over her chest, she narrows her dark eyes at Spot. "That's not nice. My daddy says not to let nobody say bein' a girl is bad 'cause girls is good as boys."

Jack wishes he could take a picture of this moment, so he never forgets a single detail of Spot's thoroughly dumbstruck expression. The normally stoic man is gazing back at the indignant preschooler with wide eyes, and after a solid minute of gaping, he snaps his jaw shut with an audible click. "Ya know what? You're right," Spot says, nodding. "Sorry."

The girl jerks her head in a sharp nod. "Good."

He can't fight it back any longer, and Jack laughs, although he hurries to stifle it when the girl's dark eyes flick to him suspiciously. "Thanks, kiddo," says Jack. "Someone had to teach this guy some manners. I think you're my new best friend."

All traces of hostility immediately vanish as the girl's face lights up. "Yeah?" she asks eagerly. "I don't got a best friend. Mark was my best friend, but we moved so I can't see him no more."

Jack grins and crouches down, so he's level with the girl. "Sure thing, pal," he agrees, holding out a hand. "My name's Jack. What's yours?"

"Belle," the girl responds, slipping her tiny little hand into his and shaking it energetically. She's so small her hand can only close around two of his fingers at once. "Like the princess, not like the ones at church." Jack barely manages to keep back another laugh at that; Christ, this kid is precocious. 

Belle's eyes dart up to Spot, and she leans toward Jack, cupping her hands around her mouth like she's whispering even though she doesn't actually lower her volume. "Is that a bully? 'Cause I'm s'posed to get a grown-up when I see a bully."

Chuckling, Jack shakes his head. "Nah, it's okay," he assures her. "He's not a bully. That's just my big brother." Belle nods, satisfied, and the movement causes her waves of curls to fall in front of her eyes again. She huffs and shoves them back again. "Whatcha doing down here, kiddo?"

"Gettin' water," Belle answers, pointing to the drinking fountain opposite the sink where Jack was cleaning his brushes. "I don't like juice."

Jack smiles. "Fair enough," he says. He glances at his watch and winces. "Okay, well, I gotta get back to work. You should pro'lly go find your folks."

"Dad's outside," says Belle. "Ben was cryin', so he went to make him sleepy. He said to stay in there, but I was thirsty."

"In that case, it sounds like we both gotta get back in there before we get in trouble," Jack says with a conspiratorial grin. When he stands up, Belle grabs his hand without hesitation, looking up at him expectantly. Part of him melts at her naïve trust, while the other part of him that's all-too-familiar with the darker side of the world grimaces at it. Her folks might need to talk with her about 'stranger danger' in the near future.

"I'mma go find Ma, see if she needs me to do anythin'. I'll catch up with ya later," Spot says, clapping Jack on the shoulder. Jack nods as he guides Belle back toward the rest of the kids.

The theatre is a hive of organized chaos, clusters of costumed kids corralled around individual booths staggered throughout the foyer and auditorium. One table is loaded with coloring sheets and crayons. Another is bedecked with colorful paper chains, another still with cotton ball snowmen. Up on the stage, a whole bunch of kids are bouncing around and dancing to carols on the stereo.

"You wanna getcha face painted?" Jack asks, weaving his way through the mass toward the table where his paints are laid out.

"You can do that?" Belle asks, eyes wide.

Jack laughs, grabbing the handful of paintbrushes from his pocket. "That's what I do," he replies. They've reached the table, and he nods toward an empty chair. Belle lets go of his hand to hop up onto the seat. 

Laying out his brushes, Jack sits down opposite Belle. "So, whatcha thinkin'?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. "I can paint just about anythin'. You want stars or presents, or I can make you look like a reindeer?"

Belle purses her lips thoughtfully, eyes coasting over the row of sample designs they painted onto the tablecloth earlier – because Jack knows from experience that it's dangerous to give kids an open-ended decision. With a giggle, she sits up on her knees to point. "Snowflakes!" she declares, gesturing to the design on the tablecloth. Then she glances up at him and hastily adds, "Please?"

"Awesome choice," Jack says approvingly. Belle beams, bouncing slightly as she settles back to sit on her heels. "We'll make you into a proper snow queen, just like Elsa. Whaddya think about that?" 

Belle sucks in an eager breath. "I love _Frozen_!"

"This might tickle," Jack warns her with a grin. Then he tips her chin up with one hand and paints a white line down her cheek. Her nose scrunched, but she does a good job of not wriggling too much. "So, what's your favorite animal?" he asks conversationally to keep her distracted. It's easier to keep them still if he gives them something else to focus on.

"Pandas," says Belle. She goes vaguely cross-eyed trying to follow the progress of his paintbrush, and Jack bites his lip to hide a laugh. "And giraffes," she adds abruptly. "'Cause they're _real_ tall. Daddy says I'mma be tall too 'cause he is, and I'm a'ready real big."

"You do seem very tall," Jack agrees. "How old're you?"

Belle lifts a hand and holds it up. "This many."

Jack glances at her fingers in surprise. "Four?" he checks, and she nods. Between her height and her vocabulary, he expected her to be older. "Wow, yeah, you are really, really tall." 

"I'm a'most this many," Belle says, uncurling her thumb to add it to the count. "My birthday is coming. I want a puppy, but Dad says we can't have one where we live now."

"That sucks," Jack commiserates. "I always wanted a puppy too, but I've never had one before. What else you want for your birthday?"

Belle chatters animatedly about toys as Jack finishes with the first cheek and starts on the second. They wind up a little wobbly in patches because she's talking, but kids are generally less critical of art than adults. It doesn't hurt that the girl's adorable, rambling aimlessly about whatever crosses her mind.

She's telling him all about her favorite television show – something about mermaids that Jack's never heard of – when he finishes painting her face. "All done," he announces, holding up a small mirror so she can see the finished product. Belle gasps and claps her hands, turning her head side to side to see the snowflakes, one large one on her left cheek and a cluster of three smaller on the right. "Whaddya think? Magical snow queen?" 

And a blinding grin splits Belle's face. "You're the bestest best friend," she declares and lurches forward to throw her arms around him. Jack can't stop a small yelp of surprise when he feels wet paint against the side of his neck. Belle is utterly oblivious to it as she bounces back, spinning in an eager circle. "Thank you, Jack!"

"Glad you like it, kiddo," Jack says fondly.

"I'mma go show Daddy," says Belle, and then turns and disappears into the crowd.

"What a whirlwind," Specs, a friend of Jack's who is supervising the next table over, remarks in amusement. Jack twists on the chair to glance back at him, grinning, and Specs snorts. "You got a li'l paint-" Specs gestures at the entire left side of his face, "everywhere."

Jack laughs, picking up one of the washrags on the table to wipe the paint from his neck and jaw. "Yeah, thanks," he says dryly. Their conversation gets interrupted by a new kid approaching the chair opposite Jack, chewing his lip apprehensively. He looks up at the woman following him, and she nods him on encouragingly. "Hey, pal, you want to getcha face painted?" Jack asks. Lip still firmly trapped between his teeth, the boy nods. "Alright, hop on up here then, and we'll getcha sorted."

It's easy to get lost in the steady rhythm of kids after that, and Jack thrills in it. He's always loved kids, and he's good at getting even the shy ones to open up to him after so many years spent helping out in the theatre. So it's a long evening of painting flowers and stars and Christmas trees on bright-eyed little kids, listening to them gushing about presents and cartoons and candy.

"Daddy, _c'mon_." The plaintive whine catches Jack's attention, and he glances up from wiping down his brushes curiously. Sure enough, there's Belle headed back toward his table, tugging impatiently at the hand of-

Jack feels his heart skip a beat as his gaze pans up to the man behind her. He's tall and lean and pale, with dark hair swept back off his forehead. The sharp angles of his cheeks and jaw could cut glass, and Jack wishes he had his sketchbook with him to try and capture the grace in those lines. His dark blue eyes are tired, smudges of gray beneath them hinting at exhaustion, but his rosebud lips are curved up in an indulgent smile as he lets Belle drag him by the hand. The other arm is cradling a sleeping toddler against his shoulder.

"Hi, Jack!" Belle greets with a huge grin.

Swallowing hard and regathering his composure, Jack returns her smile. "Hey, Belle," he replies. "You found your dad?"

"And she hasn't shut up about you since," the man interjects with a laugh. His voice is deep and rich, and Jack internally swoons. The man adjusts his grip on the drooling baby to offer out a hand. "Hi, I'm Davey."

"Jack," he says, standing up and shaking his hand. Even standing, the man still has a couple inches of height on Jack.

"So I've heard," jokes Davey, grinning. "I'm sorry about Bells, she can be a little pushy. I hope she didn't bother you."

Jack chuckles at the indignant look on Belle's face. "Not in the least. I mean, really, I kind of owe her. She actually saved me, just like a proper superhero," he says. Davey raises an eyebrow questioningly.

"His brother was being mean," Belle says, beaming up at them. "He called him a girl, but the _mean_ way." Davey's eyes widen, glancing from Belle to Jack with an expression of mingled amusement and horror.

"But the snow queen here did a good job of putting him in his place," Jack says. Davey flattens his palm over his eyes, murmuring something under his breath in a language Jack doesn't recognize but that still sounds patently exasperated. Jack takes pity on him. "It was very brave," he says in Belle's defense. "You should be proud."

Although he still looks faintly mortified, Davey pets a hand back over Belle's hair affectionately and smiles. "I am very proud," he says. Belle giggles, practically shivering with energy. "Hey sweetie, you wanted to go make one of those snow globes, right? Why don't you go do that now before we go?"

"You comin'?" she asks.

"I'll be right behind you," Davey says, nodding. Satisfied, Belle bolts over to Specs' table and slips into a chair between two other kids. Davey grimaces apologetically when he turns back to Jack. "I'm so sorry if she got out of control," he says immediately. "Did she really tell your brother off?"

Jack laughs at the man's stricken expression. "Seriously, it's fine," he says. "She just reminded him that girls are as good as boys, so you shouldn't use 'girl' as an insult. It's good for him, honestly. He's got a daughter almost Belle's age, so it's good to get him outta the habit before she's old enough to pick up on that kind of stuff."

Letting out a relieved breath, Davey rubs his eyes. "She's absolutely fearless and too smart for her own good. I don't know what to do with her sometimes," he admits, but his smile is tender. "Tried to raise her to be open-minded and aware, but I think I might've accidentally turned her into a pre-K social justice warrior."

"There's worse things to be," Jack says, shrugging. "Really, though, she's adorable."

"Thanks," Davey says. His expression softens as his eyes slide to Belle, kneeling on a chair so she can reach across the tabletop. "Dunno what I'd do without her, even if she is a handful."

Combing his eyes over David again, Jack's heart drops a little when he spots the gold band on his left hand. "The missus trust you corral 'em both by yourself?" he jokes.

Davey's glance is fleeting, but Jack sees something dark and incredibly sad flash through those eyes before Davey looks away again. "There, uh, isn't a missus anymore," he says, clearly aiming for nonchalance. Jack darts a look at the ring, confused, and then it hits him. _Oh_.

"I'm so sorry," Jack says, shifting nervously. "I didn't-"

"No, of course not," Davey replies and offers a reassuring smile. "It's fine." He glances at Belle again and sighs. "It's been harder on her. This's our first Christmas since, and my wife was the one who was good at this stuff. I was raised Jewish, so Christmas wasn't a thing, but Jo's family makes a big deal about it. Jo loved sharing all that with Bells, and I just can't make it the same, ya know?

"And I know Belle is sad, but she's being so strong about it. She's a tough kid. Just - between her mom and the move, I'm scared it's gonna be too much on her now." Then he shakes his head and glances at Jack, brow furrowed and a blush heating his neck. "I'm so sorry. I don't know why I'm telling you all of that. I'll just-"

"Davey," Jack interrupts before the other man can walk away. "It's fine, really." He can tell Davey's still anxious, so he shoots for humor to break the tension. "I've been told I got the sorta face that makes folks wanna talk to me." 

Something playful and teasing darts across Davey's lips when he responds, "Yeah, I bet they do." The quick once-over that follows it makes hope flutter to life in Jack's chest. 

Jack grins, pleased. "I'mma take that as a compliment," he informs Davey, drawing a small laugh from the other man. Clearing his throat, he goes on, "And I know I'm just some random guy, but if it helps, I think you've got a helluva kid there. Losing your folks is hard, I been there, and it don't just go away, but if there's anyone spitfire enough to make it through, it's that girl." 

That tugs a huff of laughter out of Davey. The blush has spread up into his ears now, and it softens some of the stress carved into his features, making him look younger and more vulnerable. "Thank you," he says sincerely. "And thanks for being so great with Bells. You made her night." 

"Hey, everyone needs to make a new best friend sometimes," Jack says, laughing. He bites his lip, steeling his nerves, and then adds, "And you know, the kid's not the only one who gets to make new friends since moving, so if you ever wanna grab a coffee or something..." 

Davey's eyes widen, and then he smiles shyly. "That honestly sounds really great." Grabbing his phone from his pocket, he unlocks the screen and then hands it toward Jack. "Um, could I get your number?" 

Beaming, Jack accepts the phone. "Only if you promise to use it," he says, and it's gratifying to see the way Davey's blush creeps forward into his cheeks. _Oh yeah, I still got it._ Jack types his number into the new contact slot and saves it before passing the phone back to Davey. 

"Thanks," Davey says as he tucks the phone away. "Anyway, I should go keep an eye on my kid before she wanders off and tries to take over the world again."

"Yeah, fo'sure," Jack agrees in amusement. "I should get moving anyway. It's about time for caroling, and I gotta help set up. Was nice to meetcha, Davey. Hope I hear from ya again." 

Davey nods, shy but determined. "You will." 

"Good," Jack says, grinning. "Lookin' forward to it." Nodding toward the crafts table, he finishes with, "Say goodbye to the snow queen for me." He turns with the ghost of Davey's bright laugh on his heels, and Jack beats a hasty retreat for the hall before he does something stupid. (He's very prone to doing stupid things, in all honesty. There's a reason Ma always says he's his own worst enemy.)

Jack is halfway down the hall toward the backstage when the maternal figure in question emerges from the nearby supply room, her arms laden with a colorful collection of felt Santa hats and knit scarves. "Oh, Jacky, there you are," Medda Larkin - theatre manager and foster mother extraordinaire - says thankfully. "Could you grab that tote with the candles?"

"I got it," Jack says, stepping in and snatching up the familiar green plastic tote. The little battery-operated candlesticks inside clatter against each other as he hoists it into his arms. "Anythin' else?" he asks, jerking his chin at the other boxes in the room questioningly. 

"No, this is the last of it," Medda answers. Jack nods and lets the door swing shut behind him. "These kids will be the death of me," Medda laments as they start further down the hall with their treasures. "I thought you and your siblings were a nuisance, but I swear, herding cats would be easier than trying to get these kids to behave."

Jack laughs, shaking his head. "I mean, the numbers are a bit uneven," he points out. "Your performing choir this year's got, what, forty kids?"

"Thirty-seven," Medda corrects.

"See, there were only six of us," says Jack. "I'm pretty sure if there'd been that many of us, we could be as much trouble." 

Medda's laugh is rich and bold, like the bells from the church across the street, and she beams fondly at him. "I've no doubt," she concedes. "You always were a competitive little brat. You'd just see it as a challenge." 

Winking, Jack ducks forward to open the backstage door for her, regardless of the awkward grip he's got on the tote. "That's why I'm your favorite." 

"I'm a mother; I don't pick favorites," she says, even as she gives him a warm smile that says the exact opposite. It's an unspoken thing - or at least only ever said as a joke - but they both know Jack has a special place in her heart. The perks of being the first of the strays she brought into her home.

"And that's why you're the best mom in the world," Jack says naturally. 

Medda narrows her eyes at him thoughtfully. "You're being surprisingly sweet right now. What's gotten into you?"

"I'm _always_ sweet, thank you." He deliberately ignores her sarcastic scoff. "And I love helpin' out with this all," Jack says, gesturing toward the swarm of children shuffling around on the stage and the young assistant director who is struggling to corral them. "Ya know that." 

"No, this is more than that," says Medda. "You've got that look. Did something happen?"

Jack bites his lip and grins. There's really no point trying to hide it from her; he's been convinced since the third grade that Medda is actually a psychic with the way she always knows what's in his head. "I might've met someone just now," he admits. "Nothing big, we'll see if it goes anywhere, but - I dunno, I'm optimistic. I got that feeling, ya know?" 

Eyes brightening eagerly, Medda smiles. "Things always are so much more promising around the holidays," she notes. "You've got such a warm heart, Jacky. I've only ever wanted you to find someone who sees that too." 

"Well, it's a bit early for all that," Jack says, laughing, and he's embarrassed to feel the heat that crawls up the back of his neck. "But who knows? Christmas miracles and all that." The knowing look in his mother's eye makes his blush worse, and Jack hastily clears his throat. "Speaking of Christmas miracles, let's see if we can herd your little cats in time for the curtain to go up in - four minutes." 

Medda breathes out a soft curse as she immediately reels forward to start directing the children's choir into place. It's only after they've gotten all the kids equipped with their hats and scarves and candles, and Jack's able to retreat back to the wings, that he notices he's received a text. He opens it, and his heart melts.

_**unknown number:** sorry to bother you so soon, but she's mad you left without coming to see her snow globe and wouldn't stop pouting until I agreed to send this _

Below that is an attached photo, a slightly blurry picture of Belle standing in front of the craft table, proudly holding up a painted plastic jar full of glycerin-water and swirls of glitter. The snowflakes on her cheek are even more smudged now, a solitary curl of dark hair stuck to the blue on one cheek, and she's beaming excitedly. 

Then, under the photo-

_**unknown number:** this is Davey, by the way, in case that wasn't obvious _

Jack laughs, hurrying to muffle it so he doesn't accidentally distract the kids on stage, and he saves the phone number to his phone. There's no saying this will go anywhere - they don't even know each other, really - but Jack's always been one to go with his gut, and his intuition is sparking brightly. As he leans against the wall and watches the choir belting out Christmas carols, Jack lets himself hope.

After all, it _is_ the most magical time of the year.


End file.
